Can you recall any time in which the use of nuclear weapons was described with such . . . I'm trying to find the right word. It's not indifference. Unconcern? Remoteness? Calmness? I can’t figure out the proper word. Theoretical. Speculative.

The annexation seems like a bonehead move to us, but it’s one way of declaring victory, I suppose. See, we did it. We denazified them and now the parts we have drained of life and turned into Russian satrapies are reunited. Russia has gained territory for the first time in a long while, hence they are Great. But it also means that the fighting in the area will now be considered an attack on Russia territory, which hasn’t happened since . . . well, you know. So now it’s Great Patriotic War 2: Nuclear Boogaloo, unless of course Putin wants to let an attack on New Russia Although It Was Always Russia You Know go without a devastating response - in which case what are those nukes for, anyway? Wasn’t that always the promise? Don’t worry, Russia is stronk, no one can invade, we have nukes.

Then there’s the idea that the nation Putin sought to “liberate” out of concern for its wayward status, out of love to bring it back into the fold, deserves a nukin’ for not agreeing to surrender. Probably the Tucker Carlson view. I mean, what did Ukraine expect when they declined to be forcibly absobed?

Anyway. It's just an odd time. Perhaps fewer arepaying close attention anymore, because the daily TV news isn't full of heartbreaking stories of relatable people with kids dragging suitcases to safety in another country. Or, people tuned out after the Kiev offensive failed, because now it's just arrows on a map somewhere to the east. Or, something else came along to be the Current Thing. But what is it? Not Monkeypox; that was a mid-season replacement show that got cancelled for low ratings after five episodes. COVID isn't it. We can't be concerned about inflation or shortages because (media waves hand; these are not the droids you are looking for) and there seems to be a lack of enthusiasm for swapping out richly-earned animus towards Russia with animus for the ever-looming tsunami of  supremicist democracy-threateners.

I've never known a time quite like this.

On the other hand, it's Friday!

The simple joys of the last warm days.

I noticed this the other day, and thought: this is an emergency room trip waiting to happen.

That's all the detritus I have. On to other things:

And just like that, four floors up.

Once they poke out of the pit, they start to climb up with steady confidence.

Over at the firehouse project, the pit is firmed up, all the walls in place. Heaped outside are the remnants of the old firehouse.

Bricks from the 19th century, or the early days of the 20th.

A suburban shot from last night. Sunset is when the blue-mirror buildings earn their keep.

The end of the month means it's time for Sunday Lance!

Good question!

Solution is here. As for Ellen Kanahu, she quit the force a year after this appeared, and went into politics.

We continue with our visit to an alternate dimension.

As I said last week, it's not a pilot. But what is it? Besides, duh, Gunsmoke. Maybe I'll tell you next week.

This year we're counting down the top hits . . . of 1922. Why not?

Fanny Brice with her breakthrough hit.

I think she's the only person in this entire project who was played in a biopic by someone who's still alive.

Nothing pleases me more than hearing 60s rockers just plain sell out.

That should do it for the month of September. Hope I earned your visits, and we'll start it up again on Monday. Have a grand weekend.